


Nothing Hurts Quite like Love

by knightinpinkunderwear



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Ed centric, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, POV Third Person, POV Third Person Limited, Past Child Abuse, Post-Episode: s03e05 Anything for You, Season/Series 03, Season/Series 04, Season/Series 05, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:22:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27168586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightinpinkunderwear/pseuds/knightinpinkunderwear
Summary: When you hate yourself, love is a horribly paradoxical thing.Ed liked paradoxes... in theory.In practice, they hurt.
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma
Kudos: 27





	Nothing Hurts Quite like Love

After one of the best days of his life, when he was feeling whole, happy, loved, and in love, he had a dive the next morning.

His throat was still sore and purple from the night before, he'd created schedules for the week for both Oswald's legal mayoral duties and his non-legal agenda as Kingpin. And Oswald started acting funny around him. Pretending he forgot what he was going to say. (He hadn't forgotten, Edward knew how to spot forgetfulness, and Oswald had never been forgetful). And that was when the insecurity came rushing back.

Like when Oswald visited him in Arkham. He didn't understand. He must have done something to let Oswald down. He must have done something to make himself untrustworthy. (He had, the night before he'd lied and let Oswald walk into a trap, even if it was a trap set for Butch and the gun didn't have any bullets).

 _"You're his guy,"_ Butch had said, and Ed had the awful feeling that the stunt he'd pulled the night before really had broken that. Why had he done it? Surely there was a better way at exposing Butch without endangering his position at Oswald's side, and more importantly; Oswald's trust.

He should have known not to set up schemes like that without Oswald's knowledge and permission. Oswald had almost killed him the last time, at the election, even though Edward had _known_ , somehow that Oswald would win.

That was also when he started to realize his feelings were not reciprocated.

Then Oswald invited him to dinner. Which was strange. As they normally had dinner together each evening. But this one would be different.

Edward knew it. And the knowledge of its difference was not good for his nerves.

The difference could mean so many things, and so many of those possibilities were things to dread.

What if Oswald was disappointed in him? What if Oswald was sick of him? What if Oswald knew about his feelings and was disgusted? What if he was going to break off their friendship?

Or possibly the most terrifying of all, with the least chance of it actually being true; What if Oswald returned his feelings? What would he do?

It was hard enough to feel this way about another man, though he _knew_ that there was nothing wrong with it. But how could he forget the slurs and beatings that had been thrown at him whenever he'd done something that could be interpreted as queer? (And he was. That was what he was, but knowing something and actually acknowledging it out loud were very different things).

And how would he be able to be loved? (With Kristen it had hurt, and she hadn't even liked him as much, she'd wanted him to be something else, and that had made her affection easier to accept, easier to understand). (And he'd killed her, he never wanted to hurt her and he _didn't know_ he'd been doing it). (How could he ever trust himself not to ruin it?) (How could he ever trust himself not to hurt Oswald?)

(How could he ever trust Oswald caring about him if there was not something in it for him?)

(How could he trust that Oswald wouldn't find whatever icky awful thing or the gaping hole in him that made him unlovable and intolerable to almost everyone else?)

Then he saw that woman in the wine store.

She looked so much like Kristen it hurt. (He deserved that hurt, that guilt.)

He deserved to pay for what he did to her, by putting something good back into the world.

She asked him a riddle and the scary wrongness of her was so much less than the terror and dread of Oswald's dinner.

And if Oswald were only going to throw him out, a night with a creepy doppelganger of his deceased girlfriend might cushion the blow.

He said he was in love with Isabella, becuase if he said it enough the terrifying intensity of what he felt for Oswald might go away. Besides, it wasn't like Oswald could love him back.

Not becuase Oswald was incapable of love, but becuase he was incapable of _being loved_.

He got the feeling that Oswald was disappointed in him. And as much as that hurt, it was bearable. He was used to being a disappointment, it was a relief almost.

Now that Oswald was disappointed in him he didn't have to wait for that disappointment to surface. He didn't have to ask himself when Oswald's high regard for him would disappear (becuase no one ever really liked him for long).

Isabella doesn't like him, not the real him, that's sometimes whole and sometimes two fragments that summed to be slightly more than one but not quite two. She thinks of him like a Romeo, that their story will end in tragedy. She thinks it's romantic, what he did to Ms. Kringle (she's wrong, she is so wrong). The memory of Kristen haunts him in place of his reflection, which makes sense, because he is somehow still whole.

He's scared he'll repeat himself. He'd always been so horrible at breaking patterns. He'd always been so bad at preventing patterns. But if he hurts her at least it would not be Oswald.

Isabella has glasses, horn-rimmed almost exactly the shape of Kristen's. The air is suddenly gone from his lungs.

He never should have gone home with her. This isn't a second chance it's a trap, to force him into a pattern (but a pattern is three... he can't let it get to two).

He asked Oswald to break things off between him and Isabella. It wasn't fair to Oswald, but he's so scared of seeing Kristen's dead face again (though this time, he has to remind himself, it will be Isabella). He trusts himself around Oswald more than her anyway.

At least all the men he'd killed or attempted to had not resembled Oswald.

Isabella didn't want to let him go so easily, he should have seen it coming. The only way it will end is if he broke things off himself.

Her hair is red, she's wearing glasses, and something that could very easily be from Ms. Kringle's wardrobe.

He calls her Kristen becuase she must be. He's hallucinating, seeing a ghost. But her hands feel warm and real.

He tries to leave and she grabs him by the wrists, he tries to pull away and she slaps him.

He cannot move, his face is stinging, and she brings his hand to her throat.

He squeezes, she gasps, but she isn't angry, or scared. She should be, he is.

She kisses him and he feels as if the hands were on his throat. And if they were he deserved it. It hurts and he deserves it.

Isabella will never let him go and if it always hurts like this... he never wanted to be trapped like this again but it is an appropriate penance for what he did to Kristen.

He hadn't let her escape when she was scared and upset, and now a replacement with her face was doing the same to him.

He smiled when he returned to the mansion, told Oswald some blind lie about how he would never hurt Isabella, how he wasn't scared, how he had just been silly. (He was less likely to hurt her than he was to let her hurt him, he was terrified, but that terror was still nothing compared to the terror at the magnitude and intensity of his feelings for Oswald).

Isabella is found dead the next morning. Her car stalled on train tracks.

Her body and face are mangled. And with her dyed hair, it's like Kristen all over again. But it's wrong, it has to be wrong.

She was supposed to be his penance. A pain and punishment he could bear.

He can't work, it's a way to punish himself. He tries to quit.

Oswald won't let him. That was what he said, won't not can't. Like it was never Edward's choice to make.

It wasn't an accident. The brake lines are cut.

Tabitha Galvan and Butch give him nothing. In return, they'll really want him dead now.

Oh well, he's been wished ill for as long as he can remember.

Then Barbara comes along with gossip. Gossip that can't be true.

Becuase Oswald wouldn't do that, not when he thought Isabella was making him happy. Becuase there was no way Oswald could feel that way about _him._

Oswald said it. He said the words. Barbara was right.

Oswald killed Isabella because he loved him. But it couldn't be love.

If it was love Oswald would have told him. Oswald would have said something, done something.

Oswald did do something. But it couldn't have been for love. At least not love the way it was supposed to be.

If it was really love Oswald would have given him a choice.

Everything was starting to come into focus, Oswald didn't free him from Arkham without ulterior motives. Oswald didn't give him a place to live and a job as his underling out of the goodness in his heart. (Was there... any real goodness? Or had that too been a clever manipulation on Oswald's part?)

If Ed lived with him and he paid Edward's checks, and fed and clothed him, and decided if and when he could leave and who he could see... It wasn't just kindness.

How had he been so blind? Of course, the Penguin had done this to place him firmly under his thumb. Of course, Oswald had done this to keep him and control him how he saw fit.

How could anyone really, truly love him without ulterior motives? How could anyone care for him and his needs without something to gain for themselves?

(Like the child support checks mother burned on booze.) (Or that time she'd given him "happy pills" to make him stop crying).

Whatever love Oswald had for him, if he had any... it couldn't be real. If it were... well it _wasn't_ becuase Edward Nygma did not deserve real love. (Of course, he didn't! How did he keep letting himself be fooled?)

(How did he keep thinking he could have any scrap of real love, whether familial, or platonic, or even romantic?)

Butch and Tabitha don't want his help, understandable given the fact he electrocuted both of them and temporarily amputated Ms. Galavan's hand.

But Oswald passes the test. He shouldn't. (How could he learn a lesson on selfishness so quickly?) But he hasn't learned about control.

Edward forgives him. He wants to let him go. But he's so scared he'll let Oswald do it again. Becuase at least this time someone will be loving him while hurting him.

And the hurt will help with the hurt that love has always carried for him. (He deserves it.)

But somewhere, deep down, the fracture comes up, snarls. It keeps him from releasing Oswald reminds him of how hard he's tried to get away from mother and father. Reminds him of a promise that he'd never let himself be stuck like that again.

He takes Oswald to the pier and shoots him.

Tells him the biggest lie that has ever crossed his tongue; "I don't love you."

Oswald falls into the water and Ed desperately wishes that the man was really unkillable, that he would rise in a pillar of bloody grimy water and snuff out Edward Nygma.

that he would rise from the water and everything would go back to the way it was before Isabella. Then instead of running off with the blond, he could have run away altogether.

He wants to go back to his apartment when he was a new and naive killer. When Oswald was just a wounded fugitive.

Lean into where Oswald had pressed the knife against his throat, let gravity do the rest. Willingly push himself onto the Penguin's blade, bleed out.

He wakes up and for a moment doesn't know where Oswald has gone. When the memory comes back to him it feels crushing. He decides against sleeping.

Barbara helps him avoid sleep, gives him a steady supply of amphetamines.

She and her posse keep asking for help running Gotham. He reminds them of the terms of their deal, he would get rid of Oswald, they would take his empire. His job was done.

If he takes enough pills he sees Oswald. Not like he had his reflection or Ms. Kringle.

The apparition of Oswald is more like a ghost than anyone else he'd ever seen. Soaking wet with seaweed and various bottomfeeders crawling against a wet and bloody suit and blue skin.

It's easier with the hallucination. He's never known who to be on his own, he knew with Oswald, and now... without him... he doesn't anymore.

He tries to find another mentor, someone he can keep at a distance (someone he won't feel so much for or about), someone to help fill the gaping hole in him that has only grown with Oswald's death.

He kills six. Starts a game with Jim to try to cheer himself up. (Jim doesn't show, but someone else does).

Foxy is too clever for his own good. He can see right through him, he can see the pain, the hurt (and that makes it ache more).

When Foxy tells him to get help it hurts worse than every single time a joke like that had been thrown his way at the GCPD, becuase Foxy means it, and he means it becuase he wants Ed to get help. Not because Edward is bothering him, but becuase he can see how much he needs it.

(He doesn't... get help).

Too often he's been taken advantage of or ignored in the spaces that were supposed to 'help' him. They never did help. And he didn't want to surrender what little control he had over his life to them again (whoever they may be).

So he pistol-whips Mr. Fox unconscious and finds a liar, someplace to stay that isn't Oswald's. Someplace where he'll feel more like he owns himself. And he curses himself for tossing the pills.

He was wrong to think he'd ever be ready to part with Oswald, whether real or the product of a sleep-deprived schizophrenic mind high on amphetamines.

Then Barbara asks him for help with something that isn't her incompetence at running the underworld, she wants him to find a secret society. And a puzzle like that is something he could never resist.

He kidnaps Mayor James, threatens to blow his head off on live television.

Jim calls with info and promises to take him to the Court of Owls.

He goes with them willingly knowing full-well they might kill him, at least he will have some answers then. (And if they do kill him, it was not like he hadn't had it coming for a long time).

Then Oswald is there, breathing, solid, real.

And everything hurts in such different awful ways. (He's relieved to see him, and that's not fair). (He's relieved and she shouldn't be, becuase Oswald hurt him, becuase he hurt Oswald).

A part of him wonders if he's destroyed what love Oswald had for him. He hopes he has and hopes he hasn't with equal desperation. (The contradiction is pulling him apart, he still doesn't know who he is, he cannot simply go back to being Oswald's 'guy').

(He wants Oswald to control him, hurt him, and make him pay for what he did).

(He wants Oswald to forgive him, to apologize, to put the past behind them).

(He wants to take it all back).

(He wants to forgive Oswald all over again, to tell him how sorry he is, how much he missed him).

(He wants to stab him again and again and push all of the hurt and confusion into Oswald).

(He wants to carve his heart out and offer it up as penance).

(But he's a coward). So he shoots Oswald with the tranquilizer dart it took him three weeks to acquire. Oswald calls the guards and they beat him. These guards did not have as much practice as his parents did, they'll certainly leave bruises but he won't pass out from the pain or have any bruised ribs.

They make a truce, six hours, or however long it takes to get out of these birdcages and this prison and solidify their standings in Gotham again.

He holds Oswald tight when he gets the chance, tells himself it's part of the charade.

He'd almost forgotten how captivating the Penguin was with a knife.

When they're free he goes back to Barbara helps in any way he can to keep Oswald from power (becuase he'd already made his cowardly choice and he had to see it through).

He contacts Fish Mooney to take Oswald away a rescue from himself becuase he knows if given the chance, if he went back to that pier he'd shoot Oswald again. And he can't let himself do it again.

He doesn't want to lose Oswald again, even though he knows that he has already lost his chance to not be at odds.

He is a coward and he cannot own up to the fact that most of him doesn't want Oswald dead. He doesn't want Oswald to have the satisfaction of knowing that (and that's the petty, spurned side).

But the side of him that hurts, that has hurt since Oswald's last visit to him in Arkham doesn't want Oswald to know becuase... there was no way it could ever go well.

If Oswald believed him, who knows what would happen.

And if Oswald didn't he would take it as another horrible ploy to break him down. (Oswald couldn't see how much everything Ed did was to break himself down).

He has gotten better at understanding his queerness, acting on it, but he is still too much of a coward to say anything. He has opened the closet door, but he cannot step out.

Then Oswald captures him for a change, there's a pin in the backseat. He gets out of the cuffs easily, and easily takes the gun from Oswald.

They're back at the pier, and it's happening all over again and he wants to stop it, wants to bring the gun to his own stomach, or maybe under his own chin.

But the fracture doesn't let him, this part of him but not-him has put too much work in making sure they (him and not-him) survive.

He doesn't realize it was a test until the chamber clicks, empty. He wants to let out a sob.

Victor Fries and Oswald's disappointment are the last things he sees. (And he knows what's coming isn't death, which some how hurts worse).


End file.
